


Just The Way It Goes

by etherealspectre



Category: OneShot (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bad Humor, Canon Divergence, Mental Breakdown, Other, Reader Is Not God, Reader has no defined gender, Reader is an Orphan, Reader-Insert, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn Ish, Tags to be added, Time Loop, basically its a coffeeshop fic, broken prose, but also pre-sunshine, if that makes sense, lol, meow, post sunshine, ultra fluff, world break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealspectre/pseuds/etherealspectre
Summary: You knew him, sort of. You went to the library a lot, and he was there, a lot, and something about his patchwork made you want to give him a smooch and make it all better. But instead, you hungrily consumed The Author's works in the hopes that they had anything that would help you help others in these desperate times.And then the messiah shows up. With the sun in their tiny hands, they carry a weight heavier than you could ever know, even if the sun is fairly light. Haha, you made a joke. No one is laughing. They're all praying for Niko. They're praying for you, and you pray for them. You pray for the sun to shine again. You pray for the Lamplighter to help light Niko's path. You pray for a happily ever after.





	1. Crimson City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edit 7/15: minor change to George.  
> *edit 7/16: added some more backstory to reader.

_Let's pretend that you were back home_ , you thought to yourself, pushing through the pain of another rush. One must make their living somehow, and you took the first job that was readily available to you. Though working in a high-rise cafe towering over the streets down below didn't exactly make you feel  _safe_ , per se, especially with the crumbling walks and terrifying squares that ate away at the metal. Less than ideal, but, at least, it was a job. A job working with a friend. A job that, though you had your rushes, was in steady decline of a customer base. 

You worried for a moment that you'd lose your job, but the thought was pushed out of your mind by the weak demand for another coffee by the bleary-eyed young man that had stuffed himself into the corner table closest to the exit. The Lamplighter. You didn't know his real name, but that title sounded so whimsical in a way, and yet, it was very literal. You promised him another one, making a note to put it on your own tab, because he just fixed all the lights in the cafe and for the first time in two weeks you could see more than ten feet in front of you. But this also meant that you could see all the empty chairs with stacks of plates and cups at their tables. You groaned and wished there was more than just yourself and Ling working the place, but he owned it, you thought? Or something? Because he makes all the food. Because he makes all the orders so you can keep making food. Because you've never been in the back room to look for what the owner's name might be. Because you're short staffed and overworked. Because not many folk are looking for jobs this high up with a fear in their hearts that they'll plummet hundreds of feet to their death one day.

Still, you thought, they continue to come here. You swept a load of dishes into a bus tub and passed them over to Ling, who set them aside for another time. Every time you turned around, another customer came in. 

You forgot about his coffee, and found his once occupied spot empty with the few coins enough to cover his first cup left on the table. Crap. You felt like a total jerk, but he'd return eventually, and to that end, you'd give him the whole pot next time he came around. Your attention got turned away towards a young couple, asking about the specials.

What a day it would be, but at least you could head to the library after your shift. A simple pleasure.

* * *

 

There are a few basic things in life that you know. One: the sun is out. You are consistently under a blanket of stars, if you could see them beyond the city lights, that is. Every day the crimson glow haunted you. Two: robots are cute and snarky and should be loved and appreciated. Three: there's a glitch in the matrix. You made that as a joke, once, after the first time the squares took out some of the high rise walk to a passing robot, and they did not find it funny. Four: There were whispers on the wind of the Messiah having come to this world of yours, and that brought a sense of hope into your heart for the first time in... well, ever. You felt your prayers were being answered. Five: the Author is a mysterious and magical being, because literally no one could produce books as fast as they could. 

George handed you your renewed library card. She gave you her cutesy, four-sided smile, and waved you off. You liked George and so did everyone else, save for probably the grumpy guy on the first floor who snapped at you whenever you so much as looked at what book he was reading. Man, what a dick. 

With your library card, you took to the non-fiction section, thinking about reading about deep-sea creatures. To your dismay, the phosphor lights on the far end of the wall had dimmed considerably since last week, and it was nearly impossible to read the titles on any of the books. You made an exaggerated groan and huffed, spinning on your heel to look for something in a better-lit section, if not for immediately bumping into someone behind you.

"Ah, shi-I mean, shoot," you corrected yourself in case it was a child, "I didn't see you there, I mean, it's pretty dark, and I'm already blind in the light, and,"

"Crap, I should have announced being right behind you, it's my fault, don't worry about it,"

"No no no you're okay it's my fault,"

"It's definitely mine-"

A slight pause of awkward silence as both parties realized they were just prattling on. You glanced up, feeling foolish for thinking it might have been a child, as you ran into this person's chest. A young man. Oh, jeez, he's taller than you. You blinked, realizing he was rather well-lit.

"Ah! Lamplighter." Carrying jars of liquid phosphor in different colors gave him almost a mysterious, ethereal glow. "Sorry about that. And your lack of coffee earlier today." 

He squinted, as if thinking for a moment. "Oh, that was you? No, uh, don't... don't worry about it, I'm okay, really. Were, uh, were you gonna check out a book in this section? I'll be just a minute with refilling the lights, actually I think this one is broken... hm."

"Yep! Thanks, I'll just..." You stepped aside, sidling against the bookshelf to let him pass. He gave you a small nod of thanks and strode past you. You had to hold your breath, for a few reasons:

  1. Oh my god he smells like sweat.
  2. You feel like you take up too much space with your body and holding your breath makes you feel smaller, you guess? Even though there's plenty of room?
  3. He is fucking _gorgeous._



You knew that before. You see him everywhere, or damn near just about. And you're pretty sure you weren't the only one who harbored a tiny crush for the nameless illuminator. Wait. You thought for a second. Is illuminator even a real word? Adverb? You squinted for a second and then ran over to the nearest desk with a dictionary on it. Sadly, it's not, but inventing words is fun too. You sighed and skipped back up to the non-fiction section, finding that the Lamplighter had made quick work of, well, lighting lamps. 

"Ooh," you hummed happily. "Much better!"

"Yep," he mumbled, unenthused. "Gotta go fix some of the lights in the archive now. Seeya." He shrugged a bag over his shoulder - was that there before? - and made his way past you a second time. The bag probably was there. You're just unobservant.

"Ah, uh, have a good day, be safe!" 

"...Thanks?" He raised an eyebrow, slowing his pace to stare at you. You just gave him a smile and side-stepped to the bookshelf, pretending to look for your book. His footsteps faded into the carpet and you couldn't help but think about how you've made an utter fool of yourself more than once today around him. You smacked yourself. 

"Smooth move, you dingus. 'Be safe,' ugh, what am I, his parent?" 

Back to deep-sea creatures, which you were sure that your personality was that of one.

* * *

 

Another day, another book, another couple of bucks to use for rent and cat food. You arrived home safely that night, and good thing you did when you had (the clock said seven p.m., but your brain said eleven). The moment you opened the door to your apartment, your cat ran to the door and greeted you with the tiniest, most bird-like chirp.

"Why, hello, Cheddar!" You bent down to pet the orange floof. "How's my big cheesy puff today?" He purred contentedly and then trotted off to his food bowl. "Hungry as always," you grumbled in fake exasperation. "You only love me because I feed you."

"Mew!"

"Jerk." You set your book, keys, and oh god you had been wearing your work apron this whole time?? You made a frustrated sound and unknotted it, tossing it down with your book and keys on the table next to the door. Shoes inside the little cubby in that. Check your face in the mirror above that - tired looking. Then feed Cheddar. Routine, routine. While your cat munched away happily at his dinner,  you had half a mind to eat something before passing out on the couch like you do every night, though you had two, yes two, perfectly good beds to choose from. 

The scenario: you're young, your parents are somehow well-off despite how bad everything has gotten with the squares, and you live with them in a nicely sized apartment in the city. One day, you find out that the squares had 'attacked' an elevator in the building they work in. One that they happened to be in, along with about fifteen other people. The police said that there was nothing they could do. You knew that. You weren't afraid of elevators, before, or after the fact. You were, however, afraid of the squares. You got the sum of their money, being an only child, and continued to live on your own, despite being underage. Whoever decided that probably thought that they left a robot to care for you, but you had to make ends meet on your own by getting a companion one yourself. You're able to rent robots to get you food as well until you can get a job at the age of sixteen. That day was about thirteen... no, fourteen years ago. You were eleven. That's the only reason why you're able to have the things you do now. Most people aren't so lucky. You wished you could take in refugees from the Glen, but... 

A sob story for another day. The microwave pinged with your leftovers from the previous night. Spinach lasagna. Tastes better after sitting a day. 

You plopped on the couch and flipped on the television. Nothing, nothing, nothing, news, nothing, wait news? News! Something exciting perhaps? Probably not. You put your bowl down and changed the channel.

"According to the locals, it is indeed the Messiah that has come," said the reporter. "We bring you these exclusive photos and interviews with our reporter out in the Glen. Reportbot?"

The image flashed to the Glen. Swamp water everywhere, as expected, but eerily beautiful with the phosphor trees. You wanted to visit again soon, if you could. Reportbot fake-cleared its nonexistent throat. [HM. YES. THANK YOU GRACIE. THIS IS REPORTBOT IN THE GLEN. AS YOU SEE HERE,] it gestured to its upper left, where they showed a small picture of what looked like... a... cat? Holding the sun? You nearly squeed. [WE MANAGED TO GET AN ARTISTS DEPICTION OF THE MESSIAH, USING THE DESCRIPTIONS THAT THE LOCALS HAVE GIVEN US. THEY APPEAR TO BE A SMALL CAT-LIKE PERSON WITH AN OVER SIZED COAT AND STYLISH SCARF. THEY ARE GOING BY THE NAME 'NIKO'. WE BRING YOU NOW SOME SHORT INTERVIEWS.]

It switched again to a pair of Glenfolk, who appeared to be very young. You didn't really pay too much attention to the rest - you were mostly focused on the drawing in the corner. "That's our Messiah?" You glanced upwards. "No offense, God, but, uh, aren't they a little young?" You blinked. Wait a minute, who are you to question the will of God?

Though, you weren't really religious in the first place. You mostly did it out of habit from when you were young, so there was a bit of a belief still held in your heart. "Well, it doesn't matter," you sighed. "They're really cute, at least." In a very brief moment of quiet, you heard a strange, wet noise. You looked towards it, on the coffee table, to find-

"Cheddar! You fatass! Git!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing style will change.. pretty frequently. Expect no consistency. I apologize for the canon divergences, but this has been stewing in my head for some time and I haven't really ever written any of it down until now. So it's kind of a mess. I appreciate your patience. Infrequent updates to come, so please don't beg me for any unless you're legitimately worried that I, like, died.  
> also, sorry that it got weirdly overexplained about the parents bit? but like, I'm setting up a whole huge *thing* happening here. anyway.  
> Niko comes in next chapter! Yaaaaaaaaay.


	2. Frame of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What? The elevator is broken? But it was working just yesterday! Good thing you lived the building across the way from your work. And, uh, not on the bottom floor. It's gonna be a slow couple of days. Oh god you hope they fix it before the day is over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> breaking the fourth wall is a bullet point on my resume
> 
> updated a few things in chapter one for consistency's sake. also, long chapter ahead. make some popcorn.

Morning came screaming in as the alarm on your phone jolted you awake from the slumber of a lifetime. You had been dreaming about... well, it left you quickly, but you were sure it involved a grand adventure. You blinked a few times, sniffled a bit, then rolled over onto your back. Something seemed... off. Everything was blurry. Not just I-just-woke-up blurry, but almost as if... You reached a hand up to your face. Your glasses. Did you remember to take them off last night? You read through the previous chapter. No, no you did not. The frames had bent at an unnatural angle and would be nearly impossible to fix on your own.

"Shit." You sat up, quicker than you should have, swearing again at the headrush. Removing them from the one ear they dangled on, you got a, uh, somewhat better look at them. The rectangle frames had been so poorly bent out of shape you'd think that you had pressed them against metal instead of a mildly uncomfortable couch cushion. You didn't have a backup pair or even contact lenses. With a heavy sigh, you lifted yourself up and headed over to the restroom, setting your glasses atop your items on the table from last night. 

Out the door, across the hall, into a stall, flush, to the sinks, not bothering to look at yourself in the mirror, back across the hall, in the door, and then to the shower. Something not many people had, so it was a luxury, and your water was very, very limited. You made quick work of rinsing the grime off your body before the water ran out. It became sort of a game for you. Your fastest time was two minutes, give or take. Thank goodness for dry shampoos. After the fact, though, you DID look at yourself in the mirror. You wanted to frown, but, wouldn't mom say something about how if you smile at yourself more people will smile at you too? Yeah, she'd probably say that. You might be a little on the chubby side and your body hair stuck out and your left hand was missing its pinky finger but you're still a beautifully handsome human being who will go blindly into the world, grab it by the reigns, and say, listen here, you bitch, I will NOT be put down by your lack of sun! I will make something of myself!

Yeah! Early morning pep talk! 

Only helps so much after getting dressed for the day and getting to the elevator to find

that the GROUND button

is gone.

You didn't even notice for like, a split second, partially because you were going blindly into the world because hey, broken as fuck glasses. Seriously, did you get into a boxing match in your sleep? Your face wasn't bruised. 

Like, you even tried to push the button. It wasn't there.

"Are you serious right now?" You groaned and leaned forward, falling into the cool metal doors. Gently. "Okay. Maaaaaaybe it'll be back later today. Maybe someone will come up and you can get on. So you can... wait. At least it's not raining!" You perked back up and looked to the sky, which, thanks to God and The Author above, showed no signs of raining. Just a strange blank slate with no sun, being stained by the bloody lights of a never silent city. But is waiting  _really_ a good idea right now? What are even the chances? What if the button down there is out, too?

"This is-"

* * *

 

"-bullshit, Ling!"

"I know," he said in a tone that was indifferent to your mild inconvenience.

"I mean, how the hell am I supposed to get to the optometrist without the elevator in use?"

He shrugged in a way that was indifferent to your mild inconvenience.

"And the library!" You slammed your hands down on the counter. "That's the most outrageous sin of all! How can I get to the  _library?!"_

"Heyyy," he moaned, in a tone that was indifferent to your mild inconvenience but concerned about the counter, "I just polished thaaaat..." You glowered at him.

"Ling, did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah," he lied, yawning. 

"You're lying."

"Yeah."

"...Do you want me to make you that thing I made you that one time so you can sleep tonight or that other thing I made you that one time so you're more than awake?"

"Hm." He thought for a long, silent moment. Everything was silent. Heiss wasn't cooking anything. The coffee wasn't brewing. The toilet wasn't running, for once. There were no impatient footsteps from the clock object head that paced the office entrance above the cafe. It smelled vaguely of... smoke? You heard no echos of vehicles honking from down below, no flying air craft noises from above. To be fair, you hadn't heard the latter in quite some time. When was the first time you heard them, anyway? Why did you know what to call it? You couldn't remember. You squinted, focusing on the thought. Your head was hurting.

"The former, I guess," Ling finally decided, snapping the silence in half. He looked up from the plate he had been wiping dry for the last  _how long had he been wiping that plate for anyway_ and gave you a strange look. "You okay?"

He said in a tone that was indifferent to wiping the plate dry.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just- I'm fine, I just felt really weird for second there," you stuttered out. "My head kind of hurts."

"Probably from the lack of glasses."

"Oh,  _now_ you care for my well being?"

"Pssh, I always have!" He suddenly brightened up, whapping his towel at you playfully. 

"Caffeine finally kick in, huh?"

"...Yeah."

"Well I'm gonna go wander around until my shift starts, because I am super bored and this is such utter-"

* * *

 

"-bullshit," you mumbled, thwacking your head against the railing overlooking the city. 

You had tried going home to read. That failed on an astronomical level. You can't  _read_ , you dumb shit, your  _glasses_ are fucking  _broken!_ And unless The Author was going to start publishing in very large text on reflective road signs in day-glow orange, you weren't gonna learn jack shit about deep-sea fish. 

So you tried cleaning up your apartment a little. Nope. Nada. Not happening. It's already pretty clean, considering you confined yourself mainly to the living room and kitchen areas. Even Cheddar's cat box was empty. Next idea. 

Taking a walk. Now you're actually wandering around. You brought your glasses with you, just in case, for whatever reason, the elevator was working again. BZZT! Wrong. It was not. It'd been, what, two hours? No way anyone would get anything done that fast. It took them a month to get back up a single bridge to cross between buildings after squares decided it was their lunch. Bureaucracy at its finest. So, looking out over the edge of the building at the railing directly outside your building it was, complaining about the boredom and the glasses and the loneliness.

"...Uh," a quiet voice said next to you. "You... okay?"

 _Him._ With eyes that seemed to reflect back the city lights with a mildly concerned look.

"Oh. Hi," you tried to turn around casually, but ended up being stiffer than a pair of corn starched pants, or some other reasonable comparison. You coughed. "Yeah, just, today's started off pretty shitty and just," you kind of flicked at your pocket, "it'd be a lot better if I could  _see_."

"Huh?" He raised an eyebrow at you. "Oh. Yeah. Thought you looked different. You usually wear glasses and, uh, clothes."

"I- wh-" You stammered, turning several shades of rage. "I  _am_ wearing clothes, you-!"

"I meant!" He held his hands out defensively, "I meant your work clothes! Your uniform! I'm sorry I'm just awkward please don't hit me," the Lamplighter seemed to cringe.

"What? I wouldn't - " You shook your head. "Sorry. I didn't... shit. Agh, you're the hardest working guy in this damn city and I just made you think I'm an unappreciative asshole. Sorry, Lamplighter."

"It's..." he took a breath in. "I forgive you. It was a natural assumption, and... Ah! Again!" His eyes widened up, violet hair bouncing under the patchwork cap as he straightened back out.

"What?"

"I've been counting how many times people have called me that. Lessie, today, that's... sixty-four? No wait, I'm not gonna count before midnight... thirty-eight." He nodded. "Yep."

"...What," you repeated, confused.

"People keep calling me Lampligher, like it's my name." He scoffed. "Someone even left me a note and a potted plant calling me that. It's nice, but..."

"Most people don't  _know_ your name. You don't exactly wear a nametag, or anything."

"...True enough." He looked down to his jacket to his chest, where a nametag might be. "I could probably make one."

"It might be a good idea. People with working eyes will actually be able to learn it."

Sure, you can see, like, colors, and shapes, but words were never gonna work until you could get to the ground.

"That reminds me, what happened to your glasses?"

"Slept on 'em." You flicked them out of your pocket. He stifled a chuckle. God, he looked so cute, and wonderful, and  _bright_. He was probably the brightest person you've ever seen, it only because of the phosphor jars hung from his belt and knapsack. 

"Are you sure you didn't get into a fight, or something?"

"Hush, you."

"Okay, okay." He held out his hand. "I can fix those right quick for you. I, uh, know a bit about lenses and stuff, and-"

"It's just the frames, though."

"-I can still do that!" He seemed nervous. "I have a little bit of time before my next stop, so..." He trailed off, hand still hovering in front of you. His eyes were looking to the ground, other hand clenched in a fist around one strap of his knapsack, knuckles white. Oh, man, he  _is_ nervous! Without any more hesitation, you handed him your glasses. Your hand lingered for a moment, fingers brushing against his palms and vice versa. His fingers were callused. You expected that. "Thanks," he muttered almost silently, quickly turning from that moment to linger no longer and get to work.

You wanted to say, no, thank  _you_ , but you were hypnotized by how quickly he set down his equipment and took out what he needed. He had quite a number of tools hidden away inside pockets of his jacket. Screwdrivers, tiny hammers, a blowtorch-

a blowtorch?!

-like, he had everything and anything. Screws. Washers. (No dryers.) A small, rusty handsaw. About thirty different kinds of granola bars. Hand books. Lighers, matches, nail files, nail clippers, nails, scissors, needles, thread...

...you were getting kind of dizzy so you decided to look up while he got to work sitting down. You leaned casually back against the railing, staring at whatever caught your eye.

Someone was moving on the walks high above, near the garden. They were illuminated slightly by a glowing yellow light. You assumed, for some reason, that it was one of Lamplighter's coworkers. But why send two up when you could make one do the work of both? You shrugged the thought away.

"So," you said after a moment of quiet, "what's your name, anyway?" 

"You can, uh..." He hummed and hawed. "Just call me Plight."

"Plight...?"

"Sort of a nickname. It combines my first initial and last name, so..."

"P. Light."

"Yep. What's yours?" You told him. "Oh, that's... I like that a lot."

"Thanks. What's your first name, though?" Pry, why don't you?

"It's... kind of embarrassing.

"Peter?"

"No."

"Patrick?"

"No."

"Paul?"

"You're not gonna guess, so just stop."

"Alright, alright..."

"I'm almost done."

"Already?"

"Yep. You needed a new screw on the one side, but it was bent in a way that I was able to just use a little heat and put it back into shape with my hands." You looked down and... Hey, what do you know? Your glasses looked practically un-fucked-up-ified. "Pretty simple fix." He looked up to you, eyes lit up, stubbled face lit up, dirtied hands lit up in a way that made you want to paint him using excessive amounts of the blur tool. You wanted to picture that moment forever. He reached the glasses to you. 

You thanked him, though it sounded more like a weird grunt. He packed away his stuff. You cleaned off the lenses, smudged with his fingerprints. Finally, sight was such a relief. He had reached his hand up, which, for some reason, you grabbed, and helped him up. He gave you an odd, yet thankful, look. You realized he was probably reaching for the railing. Whoops.

"Um, thanks again, Plight."

"Yeah. Not a problem."

You were still holding his hand. You took it away, making an embarrassed face, and went to search your pocket. "I don't really have much on me, but-"

"Ah," he cut you off, smirking, "no. No payment. It's fine, really. I get paid eventually."

 

"Eventually is a vague term to use."

"Gosh, you use big words and everything."

"Hm?"

"Nothing, you just seem really smart... I.. have to get going now."

"Oh."

"Can you..."

"Oh!"

You were very much in the way.  You scooted aside. A repeat of yesterday evening.

"Wait, Plight... How long have you been up here?"

"Um," he paused mid-step. "Since about four a.m.?"

"Oh jeez. Um, the elevator is out, just so you know."

"WHAT?!" He screeched in a voice you didn't think possible out of that deep baritone of his. He sped off before you could even say goodbye.

Well, that was... a time. Most certainly a time. Your glasses felt more comfortable on your face than ever before. You touched them gingerly. Your watch beeped in that moment.

Work was starting in a half hour. You went home. You changed. You went back out. You crossed buildings. Plight was swearing and kicking the elevator door. You could hear him as soon as you got onto the platform. You went around the back, avoiding his rage, feeling bad about his plight. Har.

A time.

* * *

 

"We haven't had a single customer all damn day," Ling grunted in your direction. 

"Does this mean I can go home?"

"No."

"Alright, alright. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

"Heiss caught on fire."

"Oh jeez."

"Mind starting to clean up some of the mess left from that?"

"Yeah, sure."

You got to doing that. Even the radio wasn't on, which made it eerily silent in the cafe. You didn't even get to shake the cleaner can, though, before you heard footsteps walking across the tile floors.

"Oh, hi there!" Ling said in his usual, guest-greeting voice.

"Hi!" An adorable, cheery voice returned. You looked over and nearly dropped your canister. "How come.. there isn't anyone here? Normally, cafes have tons of people!"

 _Oh, my_   _God._

"Yeah, it's a really slow day..." Ling had turned just enough to look you in the eyes.

_More like, oh, my Messiah!_

"Do you think it's because the ground access elevator is broken?"

"So I've been told." He had turned back to face the Messiah and act like a normal human being, which he was WAY better at than you were. Don't freak out. Do not. Freak out. Freaking out is not happening right now. "The city's infrastructure has been suffering a lot lately. Skywalks and stairs breaking off left and right... Now the only reliable way of transport are those elevators..."

Not entirely true, but

"...Until now, anyway..."

_Ling, you lying bastard!_

"...You know, a tall guy came in here earlier saying the same thing."

"I told you about it this morning!" You interjected, snapping out of your starry-eyed state. The Messiah looked over the counter, with their eyes like the sun, and waved to you. You waved back, trying not to turn into a puddle of mush or run over and ask to pet their ears.

"Did you? I wasn't paying attention."

"That's not very nice," the Messiah pouted at Ling.

"...Sorry," he apologized weakly, to both of you. You made a promise to yourself, in that moment, to kick Ling's ass later. "...Anyway, he looked pretty stressed, so I wanted to cheer him up. I told him the only "ground" I've seen today is coffee grounds!"

You groaned. That pun was never funny. The Messiah didn't react for a short moment.

"He, um." Ling noticed no one was laughing. "He didn't get it..."

"...He's probably just overworked and super tired," you muttered to yourself, inching closer to the kitchen door to get a better look at the Messiah. They were... very short. You could pick them up, even. And the sun was... as you expected it to be, a giant light bulb glowing a warm yellow. It looked so inviting; you wanted to touch it. You refrained.

"I see him around a lot, but he never seems to have time to eat a proper meal..." You nodded in agreement to that. 

"Guy's probably a twig."

"He kinda just, rushes in here, drinks a whole pot of coffee, and rushes back out?"

"He only had one cup last time, though."

"Holy - wow, I wonder if he-"

"I just saw him outside. He's awake. Somehow. Miraculously."

The Messiah was a very good listener. 

"He, uh, he really takes his job to the extreme. I mean, it's an important job, but nothing worth that amount of stress, I think.."

"M-hm!" The Messiah seemed to agree, too. "What does he do?"

"Maintenance, I believe. Something to do with the lights, but I don't know the details. Maybe you can ask him later?"

They nodded and went to wander off in the cafe. Ling turned suddenly to you, giving you the,  _can you believe who just walked through the friggin door?!_ look.

The Messiah picked up an empty can of coffee and showed it to him. He apologized for the trash on the ground, mentioning Heiss. You were already trying to get back to work on the stainless, wondering about the poor bot, who worked mornings and then took a recharge nap in the utility closet for the rest of the day. Good thing fire doesn't effect robots. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i'm sorry this was so LONG and the chapter ended so poorly. i'm not good at condensing things. i let my water bottles do that for me. (da dum tssh)  
> funny aside, i just... niko-focused chapters coming up like the romance stuff comes post time loop sunshine stuff. i need to update the tags on this thing because hoo boy it's gonna get a little deep and kinda scary. but SO MUCH FLIRTING also. 
> 
> random fact of the day: my mom and i seem to be on the same sleep schedule, despite living three hours apart. she messaged me just a few minutes ago (it's two am at me writing this note) asking about my HRT. i gave her the information, and also told her to go to bed.


	3. hiatus

this'll be deleted and changed later on  
i know i've only posted two chapters but i am so stressed and so tired recently, my life is literally in shambles right now so i don't know when i'll be posting another chapter. sorry.


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